ve, might be too much for his
strength. She knew, too, that her father understood her, that she
cared none the less because she restrained herself. Maria would never
know, luckily for her, how painfully and secretly poor Harry had
saved the little sum which he had placed in the bank to her credit;
how he had gone without luncheons, without clothes, without medicines
even how he had possibly hastened the end by his anxiety for her
welfare.

Suddenly carriage-wheels were heard, and Harry straightened himself.
"That is Ida," he said. Then he rose and opened the front door,
letting a gust of frosty outside air enter the house, and presently
Ida came in. She was radiant, the most brilliant color on her hard,
dimpled cheeks. The blank dark light of her eyes, and her set smile,
were just as Maria remembered them. She was magnificent in her blue
velvet, with her sable furs and large, blue velvet hat, with a blue
feather floating over the black waves of her hair. Maria said to
herself that she was certainly a beauty, that she was more beautiful
than ever. She greeted Maria with the most faultless manner; she gave
her her cool red cheek to be kissed, and made the suitable inquiries
as to her journey, her health, and the health of her relatives in
Amity. When Harry said something about dinner, she replied that she
had dined with the Voorhees in the Pennsylvania station, since they
had missed the train and had some time on their hands. She removed
her wraps and seated herself before the fire.

When at last Maria went to her own room, she was both pleased and
disturbed to find Evelyn in her bed. She had wished to be free to
give way to her terrible grief. Evelyn, however, waked just enough to
explain that she wanted to sleep with her, and threw one slender arm
over her, and then sank again into the sound sleep of childhood.
Maria lay sobbing quietly, and her sister did not awaken at all. It
might have been midnight when the door of the room was softly opened
and light flared across the ceiling. Maria turned, and Ida stood in
the doorway. She had on a red wrapper, and she held a streaming
candle. Her black hair floated around her beautiful face, which had
not lost its color or its smile, although what she said might
reasonably have caused it to do so.

"Your father does not seem quite well," she said to Maria. "I have
sent Irene and the cook for the doctor. If you don't mind, I wish you
would get up and slip on a wrapper and come